


Though Quaking, Though Crazy(That's Just Wasteland Baby)

by HeardYouLiketheRollingStones



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Abigail Roberts Marston, Bisexual Sadie Adler, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Marston is a dramatic twink, No Lesbians Die, Post-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption (2010), Sadie loves him though, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeardYouLiketheRollingStones/pseuds/HeardYouLiketheRollingStones
Summary: "I Never Want to See you Again!"Thirteen years after the events of Red Dead Redemption 2, and only 1 after John's demise, Sadie finds herself caught in the whirlwind that is Abigail Roberts Marston.This story aims to delve into the dynamics of the members of the group that weren't always killing and robbing. It also aims to fulfill my need for wild west romance! Updates on most Wednesdays, but extras might be added whenever I want!
Relationships: Sadie Adler/Abigail Roberts Marston
Kudos: 4





	Though Quaking, Though Crazy(That's Just Wasteland Baby)

It had been nearly 13 years since she had felt anticipation. It had been nearly 13 years since she felt much of anything. After all of the business down at Beaver Hollow, emotions tumbled out in mass. She had screamed, she had cried, she had panicked, but only days after did she allow the overwhelming sense of limbo to take over. Arthur had said they were ghosts. Boy was he right. John may have been good company, but there was no way she would chance an encounter with his family. 

Most of the crying was done for that very reason. As they rode into the distance, away from a clearly dead on his feet Arthur, she had let her cling on, sobbing with grief. The “husband” that abandoned her, never paid the kid any mind, and didn’t even tell her he loved her, was dead. And then the bastard came back, he always did. Only a day after they had finally accepted their feelings, she bottled them right back up for that scarred deadbeat fella. The last words she heard before she rode off were the only things that still made her feel. “You never meant anything to me!” 

For a long time that one sentence killed her. Every time she blinked, the furious, gorgeous face screamed back at her, cutting the wound with a sharper and sharper knife. Any urge to visit John was pushed back down the second those words played back, like one of those new gramophones. 

So she went along with her half life for 12 short years. The sense of purgatory overwhelming her every time a new bounty came along, or a new rich heiress needed escorting. The pain never really faded, she just learned to mix it in with the limbo, only making herself more of a specter. She read in the newspaper that John was dead, shot in his own barn. Years ago, she might have rejoiced at her new opportunity, or felt grief at one of the last gang members dying, but all of that was ash. So life carried on for those few months, knowing that besides herself, only one other person knew of John’s life and his true fate. And that was the last person she would ever see, let alone grieve with. Years ago the Whiskey would’ve dulled it. Years ago cigarettes would have had a taste. Years ago a bullet would have hurt. Years ago she was alive. But after all of this time, living wasn’t the right word to describe it. Existing maybe, though even that could be a stretch when examined closer. 

Sadie Adler had died 13 years ago. Not from the gang falling apart, Not from Arthur’s death, not even from Jake’s death. She had died when the woman she loved told her that she meant nothing. The last living person that she truly trusted had taken it and thrown it into the wild, taking Sadie Adler with it. Sadie Adler was dead.

Then why the hell, was she feeling anticipation.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The breakfast at The Hound Dog Inn was mediocre at best. To someone who ate in a house as a reward, it seemed like so much more. Even with that, it was still painfully average. The grits were dry, the syrup was solid, and the whiskey wasn’t being served yet. So according to the scathing review of one bounty hunter, there was nothing to be up in arms about. Yet she wasn’t up, and neither were her arms. The years of practice kicked in, a mask of nonchalance fell over the woman, her freckled face becoming like porcelain in it’s unmoving state, and in its beauty.

All of this effort wasn’t just directed at the stiff pancakes however. They were directed at the raven haired woman 10 feet away from her. All of the careful hiding she had done, the memory found its way back in mere seconds. Of course she wouldn't be noticed, she meant nothing to her after all. Customers didn’t notice anything, but the bartender did.

Elmer Davis was an observant man. That’s what a good waiter needs, the ability to predict orders before the patrons even hear the welcome. So when the former Mrs. Marston walked in, he immediately knew something had gone very wrong very fast. The expected seconds of silence followed, as Jim Milton was respected, but John Marston couldn’t hold a candle to him. But the seemingly casual shift from his other regular piqued his interest. The bounty hunter straightened her legs, pulled the paper closer to her, and rubbed her chest as if it pained her. And he had no doubt it did.

Elmer wasn’t the type to judge at all. Love and let Love was his opinion on the matter. What should he care if two girls are sweet on one another? They aren’t doing anything wrong, simply being in love. And from the way the bounty hunter shifted? She was deeply in love, and Ms. Roberts had clearly broken more than her heart. She had broken her spirit, maybe even her soul. He also had no doubt it would come running if she just called.

“Good afternoon Ms. Milton, what can I do ya for?” He was rewarded with a small smile, and an order of waffles. As he poured dough into his waffle-maker, he got the briefest look under the brim of the bounty hunters hat, and saw eyes more pained than he expected. Just what the hell had Ms. Marston done to the woman? “Piping hot Ms. Milton, best to let it cool off.” Another smile, and thanks. In the end he found he didn’t want it. He couldn’t fathom doing something to hurt his wife that much, and if Ms. Marston did, her thanks meant nothing to him.

But he was just a waiter, so simple conversation was his strong suit. “And where might I find the boy? Usually he’s the one destroying my store.” Ms. Marston laughed, and Elmer couldn’t help but notice the way the bounty hunter grabbed her chest, unknown to the other woman. “He’s wandering around the town. I reckon he’s old enough to do that at least.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of all the voices to be hearing today… The bounty hunter found her chest aching as she laughed, almost as if it was a real wound, that she had just stabbed right open again. Hearing her voice however? That was too much. The usually calm and collected woman was throwing her porcelain façade out the window, standing up abruptly and leaving, the suffocating feeling only dampening once the door closed.

“Now just who in the hell was that?” Ms. Marston asked, seemingly confused. The person at the table next to her was unmoving until the little show, and years of running made her very wary of people who she couldn’t read. Unfazed by the language that most would refer to as unladylike, he answered carefully. He assumed that Ms. Adler wouldn’t like Ms. Marston to know her name. “Just a bounty hunter. A regular around here when she ain’t trackin scum.” 

Unknown to Elmer, Abigail’s heart was about to beat out of her chest. It had been so long since she had heard anything about Sadie. The second she said that sentence she regretted it. Eventually Abigail had come to terms with it. She loved her. Abigail loved her more than anything. Dutch’s gang, everything that happened, she made it all worth it for the Jade eyed woman. She’d give anything just to be held by the older woman, just for one minute.

“She got a name, or is she one of them strong, silent types?” The slight quiver in her voice wasn’t unnoticed by the disturbingly sharp waiter, and he decided to lay down his opinion on the matter, revealing how much knowledge he really possessed. “Yes on both counts ma’am. But I must say, I find myself wondering. She’s never said more’n a menu order to me, all calm and collected.” He saw Ms. Marston swallow, feeling the tension. “So a fella wonders. What in the hot hell did you do to make her break like that?”

Elmer Davis wasn’t a dumb man by any means. He knew a reaction wouldn’t be good if he pushed too hard, and he’d lose a paying customer. But the widow needed a push. After a vicious slap to the face, she had stormed out, as fast as her shoes would take her. Grabbing some ice for his quickly reddening face, which were infamous around Blackwater. As he turned to look around, a wide grin split across his face. Ms. Marston told him in no uncertain terms that she was a decent woman, and wouldn’t go hounding after women, and stormed out of his restaurant, nearly breaking the door. Despite all of that, Elmer Davis couldn’t stop grinning, much to the amusement of the customers occupying his establishment. You see, Elmer Davis was an observant man. And what he observed that morning made a difference.

Ms. Marston had gone in the same direction as Ms. Adler.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sadie!” No No No nonononono. She couldn’t see her again, she couldn’t handle it. Breaking into everything but a run trying to get away from Abigail. Her body was working without her mind's input as she ducked into an alley, Only realizing a few seconds later that it was a dead end as she ran headfirst into the wall.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in her head, she looked up into the startling green eyes she had come to adore and to cower from. Memories came back unbidden into her head. The glare silenced her when she came back into Shady Belle, covered in blood not her own. The concerned gaze after she killed Jake’s murderer. But now all it was was desperate. Desperate For her to say something. Desperate to hold her. The yearning in her gaze caused Sadie to stop thinking, before she started breathing heavily. Abigail tried to touch Sadie, but she flinched like a wild animal in a trap, and broke the eye contact, choosing to bury her head into her hands, verging on a panic attack. Her hat managed to hide the unwanted tears that began to roll down her face, but it didn’t manage to hide her trembling hands, which were becoming concerning to the bounty hunter. Dammit she had been closer to death than most living people ever will be, why was she falling apart like this?

“Go away.” The voice that spoke didn’t sound like her own. Her voice could make lawmen and criminals tremble just the same. Her voice had made Pearson give her extra rations any meal she wanted them. Her voice was rough with a southern accent. But was that her voice? Or was that the voice of the ghost Arthur said she was? Was this croaking, watery voice hers? Either way, her rambling thoughts were cut off by the feeling of a hand against her arm. 

Subconsciously, and somewhat consciously seeking comfort, she leaned into the touch of the woman that she loved. Her body shook, as tears now fell freely on her scarred face. She felt herself being gently guided into a soft, silky outfit by a delicate hand. She continued to shake. Somewhere in her brain she registered the words of comfort being whispered into her ear, and the smell of perfume that she had come to love so much in the time without Jake. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abigail removed Sadie’s hat in order to more hold the woman close to her, savoring the comforting aroma of pine forests from her hair, and pollen from her worn jacket. She cradled the woman in her arms as she let out 13 years worth of emotions right back onto the person that deserved it. Her silky dress, paid for with John’s blood money, was a soft cushion for Sadie, as well as a buffer between their skin.

Abigail was remorseful for what she had done, more than she could ever express. She had come to the realization that what she had with John was one-sided, and she didn’t enjoy the company of men in her bed(or her house for that matter), but she enjoyed the company of women just fine(more than fine). Despite this revelation about herself, she had never even gone out on the town with a woman, let alone brought one into her home in that context. Sadie was the only person she held any interest in whatsoever, but she had thrown any hope of courting Sadie away with her immature outburst.

However, this wasn’t about her at all, so she continued her attempts to reassure Sadie that she was safe, and no one was going to hurt her. Whether she was talking about herself or gunslingers, she had no clue. Even when she had first met Sadie, back in that god-awful mining town, she had been traumatized. It only got worse the more time she had spent with Dutch. The nightmares about O’Driscoll's had turned into nightmares about what she had become. 

She had always remembered what Sadie had told her after she washed off the blood of Jake’s killer. “I hope once I get out of here, I can have a farm. Someone to keep me company maybe, while I tend to the cows. I just want to look at that sunset, knowin it ain’t gonna be the last time.” Abigail knew she could give this to her, but it was so difficult to begin to reconcile the feelings that she had all but shattered in 1899.

After her musings came to a rather unenthusiastic end, she realized Sadie had stopped crying, and was only shaking enough to pass as a few too many drinks. “You want to come with me Sadie? I’ve got a ranch just over yonder, you could-” What should she say? Stay? Recover? Never leave? “gather yourself in.” She would have to be a fool to let the tensing of Sadie’s shoulders go unnoticed, but was rewarded as she felt the bounty hunter nod into her neck. 

“It’s just a few moments by horse, we can take mine, Mr. Davis will take care of yours.” Abigail whistled for Beth, her horse of 4 years. The dark as night steed was named after Mary-Beth of course, and was just as idealistic. Abigail swore that the thing thought it was carrying the queen. Once she had arrived, Abigail stood up, stumbling with the weight of the still trembling Sadie. “Come here darlin.” Instead of making a fuss, she simply helped Sadie onto her horse, and hopped on behind her, correctly assuming Sadie would be uncomfortable holding Abigail’s waist. With a flick of the reins, Beth began to gallop in the direction of Beecher’s hope, fast enough that no one would notice the tear-stains on Sadie's still ashen face.


End file.
